RUBY'S BLOG

Let me preface this by saying that I am extremely grateful for all of the love and support that I have received from all of my family and friends over the years. The warmth and comfort you have all offered me has been immeasurable and I in no way want anyone to think that this is directed at them at all. Stillbirth is a topic that in all honesty no one wants to talk about. It’s not pretty and no positive spin can be put on it. You can’t be comforted by suggestions of “Oh, but they lived to such an old age” or “they had such a great life”. There are no nice fluffy lovely memories to be able to look back on and say that the time you had with the person/child was worth it. There is also no one else that has experienced with that child what you have. You are completely on your own on that one. And any nice memories you had, you had by yourself. That makes what mothers of stillborn babies feel even more isolated. They have had months with this child, they have felt her move, talked to her, planned out the first moment their eyes meet. These mothers already know that child, they’ve bonded long before the baby is born. And then it happens, you hold your baby and she doesn’t breathe. You’re in shock, you don’t know what to do, what to say or what to think. That’s the horrible thing about stillbirth. It’s so horrible to think about, it goes against the way things are supposed to be. But it happens. ALOT. 6 babies are born still every single day. But not everyone knows this, not everyone wants to or happens to think about that. It happens, and we need to acknowledge that this happens alot more than any of us would like to know about. The rate of stillbirth has not declined at all in the last two decades... TWO DECADES! Yet we continue to skirt around the topic, try not to address it, try to avoid it because it’s not nice to talk about. I’d like you to imagine this for me... You meet a woman at a school group, she seems lovely, you get talking and ask her if her child that yours is playing with is her only one. She says no, she has another. You immediately smile and say” Oh That’s great! How old? Boy or girl”.How does this mother answer you? Her only other child was stillborn. She tells you, your face drops. You don’t know what to say. The conversation takes a dramatic awkward nose dive. You feel horrible for asking even though you weren’t to know. She feels horrible now because for once she was enjoying a conversation with someone else and felt she could acknowledge her child. She beats herself up for making the conversation awkward. She wishes she hadn’t said anything. Now let me pause here, I’m not suggesting that she shouldn’t have bought it up and I’m not suggesting the other parent shouldn’t have felt the way they did either. What I would like you to ponder and what I am asking is, why can’t we discuss stillbirth? Why is it still such a taboo topic. Why couldn’t this mother say “I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened? Would you like to talk?” as I am sure she would have had it been a loss of a different sort. For whatever reason, stillbirth still hides in the shadows. We have so much publicity about breast cancer, prostate cancer, cervical cancer, and SIDS. But did you know that for every one child that dies of SIDS there are 35 babies that are still born..... 35 to 1. Now all of these things deserve the awareness they have, I dare not say they don’t. But don’t you wonder we can talk so openly about them and not about still birth? I myself have experienced the isolation that comes with dealing with the loss of a stillborn baby. Initially everyone is there to help and support you, care for you in anyway that they can. However as time goes by, you are expected to move on. For some reason there appears to be a time limit on your grieving. When you are finally ready to talk, the shock that others have felt has worn off and perhaps they feel like it should have for you too. After all, you didn’t really ‘know’ the baby did you? When you talk to people you instantly question your response when asked how many children you have. Do I say 2? Or do I say 3 and acknowledge Ruby the way I so desperately want to. I have done both. When I say 2 I feel like I am not acknowledging her. When I say 3 I instantly regret it because I can see the awkwardness on most people’s faces when they hear my response to their inevitable next question. I don’t want to be responsible for making them feel like that. Maybe I should have moved on by now? Maybe I shouldn’t need to say 3....?Others do talk about, but they talk in whispered voices, hushed tones and look around to make sure no one else is listening because god forbid someone heard us talking about a dead baby. I’m sorry but that’s the reality of it. This is life. And this happens. Far too often. Do I have the answers? No I definitely do not. Do I blame anyone for their feelings, certainly not. It is entirely understandable that it makes people uncomfortable. All I ask is... think for a second of the mothers that have gone through this, think of how you would speak to, treat or care for someone you know experiencing a different more socially acceptable loss and treat her with the same love and care. You may not understand, you may not be able to feel what she is. We don’t need you to. We just need to feel that it’s ok to talk. It’s ok to acknowledge our babies and it’s ok to not be ok. I welcome any feedback that anyone has on this topic. I am really trying to understand why this issue seems to be so under researched and under publicised. Part of complete understanding is hearing and acknowledging both sides. Jess xx

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Author

Jess Castree is a mother to two little boys and one angel little girl. She is the General Manager of a Plumbing Company in Melbourne. All round workaholic, perfectionist, over anxious, slightly neurotic woman trying to make it in the big bad world we live in today.